


let it go

by a spot of elle grey (minniemoments)



Series: x-chankai drabbles [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kinda No Plot, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Music Video: Obsession (EXO), Nightmares, Obsession, X-Chankai, call it character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniemoments/pseuds/a%20spot%20of%20elle%20grey
Summary: "I -" Chanyeøl starts, swallows, pushes out another deep breath, "Nightmare?"It's weird - weird that Jøngin's confirming whatever mental duress, backflips, acrobatic tricks Chanyeøl endured, but he never remembers the nightmare once it happens, only knows that he must have had one if they're waking up like this, apart and in the middle of the night."Yeah," Jøngin says quiet, picking at a thread in the sheets idly.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol
Series: x-chankai drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902832
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	let it go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MlNMOONGlE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlNMOONGlE/gifts).



> wholly inspired by DMs with alu and her lovely art ♡, meant for this to be a quick concept and this kinda tumbled into something longer... 
> 
> title referencing James Bay's "Let It Go"; may be kinda rough D:

Heat licks up Jøngin's back, burning warmer than Chanyeøl's normal temperature, hands near scalding on his stomach, startling Jøngin awake.

" _Hyung_ ," Jøngin hisses, squirming a little at how Chanyeøl's blunt nails scratch sensitive skin.

Chanyeøl murmurs something, voice sleep-heavy, some sort of protest, talking to something Jøngin can't see. His grip is tighter, keeping Jøngin against his chest, trapped, leg tangled between Jøngin's own, anchoring. Chanyeøl presses his stomach, muttering "stop, stop, stop - _please_ ", soft and desperate, fingertips digging in uncomfortably, forcing a whine out of Jøngin that turns into a yelp when his abdomen is burned.

His body pulls through space, disorienting and splitting, and he tumbles to their bedroom floor, bumping into the dresser. Shoulder hitting the hardwood and he breathes a sharp "Ah", the pain blunt and tender. Tears prick at his eyes and he instinctually applies pressure to the burn marks - five odd ovals dotted by red crescents, spanning in an arc above his navel, and forces his breath to even, knowing the pain will dissipate soon, but right now it _hurts_ , biting harsher than any consensual marks Chanyeøl gives him.

A few moments pass and he wipes away the tears that he couldn't contain. He collects himself, stands, wincing at how the movement pulls at the injured skin. Keeps an arm wrapped around his waist, thankful that the pain in his shoulder dulled, and stumbles toward the lamp on his side of the bed. When he turns it on, the dim light reveals the way Chanyeøl's sweating, fingers digging into the mattress in Jøngin's absence.

"Hyung," Jøngin tries again, trying to keep the pain out of his voice, hand still protectively holding his stomach while the other jostles his boyfriend's shoulder, "Wake up."

"Hmmm?" Chanyeøl questions, rolling on to his back, an arm thrown over his eyes. He exhales heavy, wetting his lips to make his mouth work, voice still gravely when he asks, "W'time is it?"

Jøngin sighs, "Late." Gingerly moves to sit on his side of the bed, a leg tucked under while the other hangs, still careful to keep his distance. He studies Chanyeøl for a moment, noting the tight line of his mouth, the set of his jaw. He can piece together that Chanyeøl was having a nightmare, but wonders what happened, if something triggered it.

"I -" Chanyeøl starts, swallows, pushes out another deep breath, "Nightmare?"

It's weird - weird that Jøngin's confirming whatever mental duress, backflips, acrobatic tricks Chanyeøl endured, but he never remembers the nightmare once it happens, only knows that he must have had one if they're waking up like this, apart and in the middle of the night.

"Yeah," Jøngin says quiet, picking at a thread in the sheets idly. He feels jittery, like he might randomly teleport again without warning. He hates the sense of fear that knots in his stomach, knows it's instinctual like recoiling from a hot stove, but it wasn't _intentional_... Still the burn marks sting.

"Let me see," Chanyeøl says, sensing the way Jøngin's shielding himself, stretching his arm above his head and shifting to look at Jøngin. He doesn't think about the way Jøngin flinches nervously, can't let his heart take it as a fear of him, just promises Jøngin that he won't touch.

Jøngin chews on his bottom lip for a moment, contemplating, trying to think if it's worth obeying Chanyeøl's gentle yet firm demand. Memories of Chanyeøl refusing to get near him for days after the first time press to the forefront of his mind. A shiver runs through him at the thought of Chanyeøl sleeping on the couch, insisting it was too dangerous for him to go to bed with him.

"Baby," Chanyeøl sighs, shifting on to his side to face Jøngin better.

The word caresses Jøngin, soothes him as much as it pains him, fills him with want and comfort that's made bittersweet with the buzz of fear still warning... But isn't this his hyung?

"It's okay," Chanyeøl encourages, fingers tracing lines against the thread of the sheets, need and want and caution and restlessness - the pausing and tensing shame and guilt.

Jøngin nods, moves away his hand to show the brand that's love and pain. He sees the way Chanyeøl stills, eyebrows furrowed, trying to reconcile wanting to heal with hands that harm. The air is too thick, too tangible to flow and greet lungs.

"It's okay," Jøngin says, breaking Chanyeøl from his thoughts, drawing his gaze upward with his words, and for a moment he's overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions in Chanyeøl's eyes, aches at the sight of self-hatred that burns visceral, tempered only by concern and love.

Chanyeøl shakes his head and it cuts Jøngin, makes him feel raw, obscures and consumes reason and he leans closer, hand reaching for Chanyeøl's only to touch their bedsheets when Chanyeøl moves his hand out of reach.

"Let's get some aloe vera, baby," Chanyeøl says, voice measured and gentle, trying to calm as if he isn't punishing.

" _Hyung_ ," Jøngin whispers, a tear slipping down his cheek. He's breaking like porcelain, delicate and jagged, begging, "Please."

The word is so soft, vulnerable, misguided, loving. It's a demand as much as a plea that makes Chanyeøl's chest tighten with guilt, guilt for losing control, for denying, for hurting, then hurting again.

His words get caught in his throat, something he can't swallow down, and he's chewed up, shaved to the bone at the wounded look in Jøngin's eyes when he makes no motion to hold him, console him.

"Please," Jøngin says again, barely audible, coming closer and caging Chanyeøl in, ignoring the burn marks that are stinging and welting a ruddy burgundy because it's transient, inconsequential to the cosmic wrong of Chanyeøl not touching him.

"I can't -" Chanyeøl starts, breaking and eyes wet - stopped by Jøngin sealing their lips together, not caring for Chanyeøl's dumb excuses. They're all stupid and flimsy, uselessly trying to convince Jøngin that something about them is wrong.

Jøngin kisses desperate, needy, whining relieved into Chanyeøl's mouth when he kisses Jøngin back, softer and kinder, indulgent. Jøngin shifts, slow to keep them together, straddles Chanyeøl, craving. Just needs him close, needs his body to ground him like words can't.

"Baby," Chanyeøl says, kisses brief again and Jøngin melts, pliant and trusting.

"Don't leave me," Jøngin pleads, the unspoken "again" hanging heavy and poignant.

Chanyeøl sighs as if about to explain and Jøngin tells him a firm "No", cuts off the explanation he's heard too often, heard when he was too cold, too numb, too lonely without his hyung's touch, strong and reassuring. An explanation that seems too cruel when he's crying himself to sleep, uncaring of reasoning if it means being apart, if it means trying to chase sleep without being held.

"I -" Jøngin tries, struggles, curses words and his tongue and mind, finds his hands in Chanyeøl's hair, gingerly massaging messages he can't speak.

"I know," Chanyeøl says, concern etched on his face even as a melancholy colors his eyes, "I'm sorry, baby."

"S'okay," Jøngin says, sinking and settling, connecting them how he wants, chest to chest.

"I didn't mean to," Chanyeøl murmurs, hands moving, spellbound, featherlight, still too cautious.

"I know," Jøngin whispers, loving, forgiving, always forgiving, "Touch me, hyung."

"Don't wanna hurt you," Chanyeøl says, fearful, distrusting of himself.

"You won't," Jøngin says, reassuring, bottomless in his own trust, lips capturing Chanyeøl's again, needing him to understand, whimpering when Chanyeøl's hands find their place on his thighs, sweet and slow.

His own hands meeting Chanyeøl's to guide them upward, squeezing to stop Chanyeøl from pulling back, rubbing his thumbs affectionately when Chanyeøl's hands settle over his new marks.

"It's okay," Jøngin says again, in between kisses, and he can't work up the nerve to tell Chanyeøl his love, the depth of it, but tries, tries with his mouth and his hands and hips and heartbeat.

Chanyeøl lets the words wash over him, takes them for the acceptance they are, gives in and gives himself over. They have to talk about it, but it can wait.

The only thing that matters in this moment, this vacuum, is caring for his love how he needs, begs, craves.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aspotofellegrey)
> 
> general notes:  
> \- chanyeøl's nightmares are a somewhat regular occurrence and if they're bad enough, his body goes into fight or flight mode and loses control of his fire  
> \- jøngin has a, uh, burn/marking kink, but also has areas that are sensitive in a way that hurts more than it's pleasurable and his stomach is one of his established "no zones", so he's especially hurt and scared in the beginning, but knows chanyeøl wasn't in control and wouldn't have burned him there on purpose  
> \- their relationship is kind of in a gray area sometimes, but touch is a big part of their communication, so not being touched hurts jøngin as much as it hurts chanyeøl to not touch him
> 
> errr.... i'm probably overexplaining at this point haha hope y'all enjoyed ~


End file.
